


Out of the Game

by YancyPants



Series: Like Abigail but with a "V" [2]
Category: House M.D.
Genre: Established Relationship, Gen, Kid Fic, Light Angst, M/M, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 08:33:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5999091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YancyPants/pseuds/YancyPants
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>House and Wilson's daughter, Avigail, gets hurt during her lacrosse game and while both have different ways of coping with her stay in the hospital and eventual recovery, Avigail just wants them to stop bickering so she can deal with her headache.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There is a brief portion of this fic that focuses on sports related violence but it is only to further the story and doesn't go into too much detail. I figured it would be a good idea to put it as a warning in the description portion anyway.

Bright fluorescent lights are the worst type of illumination to wake up to. They're almost as bad as listening to a bickering couple that refuses to concede to any opposing view given by one or the other. Gail House has the distinct pleasure of dealing with both as she wakes up in hospital bed, her parents yelling at each other and the overhead lights burning her eyelids.

How nice.

In any case, she can deal with the lights and her parents will burn themselves out eventually. She's more worried about the fact that she's currently tucked into the most uncomfortable bed anyone could invent and that isn't doing her head any favors. Another wonderful thing to wake up to, a throbbing headache.

Gail goes to complain about her headache with a simple phrase that doctors like her parents have heard ad nauseam: “My head hurts.” But it comes out more like “Rrrmmuuh…” with a pathetic cough at the end for dramatic impact.

In terms of trying to communicate it's an absolute failure but her fathers have stopped snapping at each other so she'll call it a success on that front.

Wilson is the first of the two bickering men to react to the moan coming from the bed in the secluded hospital room. He darts from his spot by the window and positions himself next to his daughter and grabs her hand.

Gail squints up at him and for a moment just looks at him with a crease in her brow. His eyes are bright red and his hands are shaking enough for her to feel it as he holds her hand in his. Gail comes to the conclusion that he's been crying.

Wilson starts to talk before she gets the chance to ask him what's wrong.

“Hey, Bitsy, how’re you feeling?”

In the far corner of the room, sitting in a chair, House rolls his eyes and scoffs. “Probably like she got steamrolled by Thomas the Tank Engine with a grudge against children who have the nickname ‘Bitsy’.”

“Don't start, Greg.”

Wilson's eyes are closed and Gail can see the irritation building in her father. Especially since her other father is now ‘Greg' instead of the standard ‘House’ or ‘Hun' though that last one is usually used in a playfully sarcastic manner.

“Or like she got stomped on by an opponent with a lacrosse stick and a vendetta against talented players who are really good at blocking passes.”

Gail wonders for a moment if a person could make their teeth fall out by grinding them as hard as her father Wilson is now. Most likely not but it is something to think about nonetheless. Though she should probably think about House's last comment instead as she gets the distinct feeling that it was more than just an analogy.

“I was there, House!” Wilson snaps turning back to face House. “I don't need you to remind me when our daughter is laying in a hospital bed with a concussion and broken collarbone instead of celebrating with her teammates because a sore loser decided to pummel her within an inch of her life!”

That sounds absolutely brutal. And painful.

It dawns on Gail that it is brutally painful as her headache comes back full force, which if her father is to be believed, is not the most pressing matter but it's annoying so she's going to try her hand at complaining again.

“...mmm, head hurts.”

Gail's throat incredibly dry. Her words come out as if they're being pulled against sandpaper that just so happens to be in a running garbage disposal. But clearly her point has gotten across as Wilson brings a cup of water to her lips after having poured it from a pitcher beside the bed left there by a nurse earlier, and lowers his voice when talking to her again, instructing her to drink.

“Thanks,” Gail says once she's had enough water to soothe her throat. It's not really feeling too much better but she feels confident enough to speak without fearing squeaks and cracks between her words.

She asks for an explanation of what's happened, why she's in the hospital and for a moment Wilson worries that she's dealing with memory loss before House chimes in with an admittedly helpful reminder.

“Calm down you worrywart. She's on some serious painkillers, I'm jealous by the way.” Wilson glares at House who is smart enough not to press the issue. “Also, Thomas the Sore Loser pulled a fast one on her so I wouldn't call it amnesia just yet,” he pauses. “Unless she can't remember her name and all that. You're a doctor, maybe not a brain doctor like Foreman but I hear you're pretty capable. You should check to make sure her brain is working right.” 

Gail cuts in before House can provoke Wilson further. “Stop teasing Daddy, Pop. He's shaking like a leaf.”

House pauses to look at his daughter with a barely there smirk on his face. He raises his hands in surrender and leaves Wilson and Gail to their conversation.

“Honestly, Gail,” Wilson says slowly to bring the attention back to himself in order to check on her. “How do you feel and what do you remember?”

“I feel like morphine would be warranted but I heard concussion earlier so that's a no go.” Wilson nods with a small smile toward Gail. “I remember coach calling us off the field for congratulations and then…”

_Something, most likely a lacrosse stick, slammed into her back._

_It took her off guard and caused her  to fall forward into the ground, halfway to her coach, which would have been bad enough without the added snap of something as she fell. In an attempt to break her fall she twisted slightly. While she avoided landing on her face her shoulder took the force of the impact._

_Pain tore through Gail's left shoulder and she felt every bit of it as she tried to curl up on the ground to avoid any more injury._

_Of course she would never be that lucky._

_She felt a foot connect with her back causing her to lurch forward which forced her arm to move. Gail cried out in pain and tried to escape. She managed to crawl away for a moment using her right arm as support but it was kicked out from under her. She fell forward again and landed on her already injured shoulder with the added bonus of slamming her head against the ground hard enough for her vision to go black at the edges._

_Both coaches, hers and that of the opposing team, finally came to take the other lacrosse player off Gail but the damage was already done and the last thing Gail saw was her father Wilson jogging toward them with her father House limping after him._

“Her memory seems to be just fine, Wilson,” House chimes in once Gail finishes her recollection of the day's events.

A fair amount tension leaves Wilson's body. Still leaning over his daughter he smiles and runs a hand through her hair.

“I'm so glad you're okay, Avigail.” His eyes are brimming with tears again and Gail half expects House to pop in with some offensive comment directed at her dad but he refrains. She'll have to praise him later.

“You wanna go tell Cuddy Gail's up so she can do her official once over?” House asks Wilson, and it is the most sincere sentence he's said since Gail opened her eyes.

Wilson ruffles Gail's hair, gently of course, one more time before leaving her and House with a “Be back soon,” said to his daughter and a “Behave,” to his husband.

House pushes himself out of his chair the minute Wilson walks out of sight and makes his way over to Gail. She watches him pull a pen light out of his pocket and knows exactly what he's about to do.

“No, Papa. I have a massive headache right now. The room lights are bad enough.”

House rolls his eyes and pulls her eyelids enough to shine a light in her eyes. Satisfied, he puts the light away. 

“You're the worst,” Gail tells him when he pulls the light away. She's still blinking, as if that might help.

“Absolutely.” House smirks and looks at the child in front of him for a moment then sighs and leans in to kiss her forehead. Gail smiles and pats her father's arm.

“I'm okay, Papa. I promise.”

House scoffs but doesn't argue with her, he's shaking too. Not as much as Wilson had been but there's no mistaking the crease if concern on his brow.

“So...I broke my collar bone, huh?” Gail acts as if it's no big deal but she wonders how much damage actually happened to her.

House runs a hand through his thinning hair. “Among other parts of your shoulder. That kid really did a number on you.”

“What's the damage?”

“Nothing you want me to tell so I'll leave that to Cuddy.” 

Gail huffs a bit and wants to cross her arms but she's got an amazing set up of a temporary cast preventing her from doing so. She settles for rolling her eyes instead and doesn't focus on the fringes of pain that hit her after her aborted attempt at showing attitude.

“I'm fifteen, not five. I can handle a little bad news, Pop.” She sounds so confident and for a moment House looks like he might cave and tell her. But his eyes go a bit distant and he lowers his head.

“I can't.” House shifts his gaze toward Gail and sighs. He runs his hand over his face, then through his hair and lets it rest at the base of his neck. His eyes are welling with tears and turning pink and the sight leaves Gail almost speechless.

“Papa?”

House doesn't say anything but he does smile at her and wipe his eyes a little. Like Wilson, he runs a hand through her hair as gently as he can. Gail can feel the tremor in his touch but she doesn't say anything.

Neither have the courage to continue conversation so it winds up being the two of them staying silent until Wilson and Cuddy arrive. And that's fine, they can talk later when Gail's throat isn't so dry and House's eyes aren't so wet. They'll deal with the fallout as it comes but for now the silence around them provides enough security for comfort.


	2. Chapter 2

When Avigail is finally released to go home, days later after a series of tests and metal support for her collarbone and one massive cast, there's a silence that engulfs her and her parents on the drive home. House is doing his damnedest to appear disinterested and Wilson keeps checking the mirror to see of Avigail wants to talk. Clearly she doesn't given that her forehead is pressed against the window and her eyes are cinched tight.

Wilson can't help but feel unnerved. Avigail hasn't been this quiet in her life and while he understands the reason behind her silence it doesn't stop him from feeling a pervasive sense of wrong. But dealing with both House and Gail, he's learned to pick his battles and this time he's choosing to bow out at least until Gail initiates conversation.

They reach their home a few minutes later. One final check in the mirror tells Wilson that Avigail has nodded off since his last check in.

House slides out of the passenger side of the car and makes his way over to Avigail. He taps the glass effectively waking her up without startling her and motions toward the door. Since the door is on her right she opts to open it herself, even though there is still a resulting twinge of pain from her movement.

Avigail grits her teeth and moves to slide out of the car without assistance. Wilson arrives at her side of the car in time to see her stumble into her father causing both her and House to wince. Gail goes so far as to try to hold back the sob that comes from her but breaks when Wilson helps her off of House and into his own gentle embrace.

Wilson does his best to not get hung up on House resulting scowl but that's a bit difficult since he feels it's directed at him specifically.

“House?”

House shakes his head and looks away. “Later. Get Gail inside first.”

So House knows that Wilson wants to talk. Wilson's grateful that his husband doesn't give him an outright denial but he'll have to play this carefully. It's two in the afternoon and House usually isn't one for talking until after five. Patience is the word of the hour.But Wilson does what he's expected to do and guides Gail slowly into their home taking each step as she dictates steadying her as they move forward. House follows behind.

The first thing Gail does upon entering the loft is head to her room quietly thanking her parents for their help. They don't say anything else as she closes the door before they can speak.

Wilson places his hands on his hips and looks around the loft at every point that he can find that isn't House. Which becomes difficult when House walks directly in front of Wilson to get to the couch in the living room.

If he had the capacity House would throw himself onto the couch. Instead he lowers himself onto the cushions as quickly as his leg and cane will allow. He sighs, puffing his cheeks and closing his eyes. His head rests on the back support and he keeps it there with his eyes closed and doesn't move when Wilson sits down next to him.

More silence seems to be all they're capable of until House groans and chances a glance at the man next to him. Wilson's sitting with one hand on either leg. They're both moving in tandem up and down the length of his thighs. House can see Wilson holding himself back so he puts him out if his misery.

“You were right,” House says. He turns his head to face Wilson better but otherwise doesn't move.

Wilson jumps at the sound of House's voice but recovers well enough to respond without missing too much time.

“About what?” Wilson is cautious about claiming any victory of knowledge over House at this point. They've been through enough for him to know that being right isn't necessarily a goal to aspire to with House on the other side.

House doesn't say anything and Wilson thinks he'll have to start guessing soon but House sighs and clarifies.

“About her getting hurt.”

Wilson squints in confusion then remembers a conversation from years ago consisting him and House arguing over Gail wanting to play lacrosse on the school team. That had been when Gail was in the sixth grade.

The two of them, Wilson and House, had it out. House obviously wanted to encourage her and Wilson had played the role of the cautious parent bringing up every possible negative outcome if she chose to truly take up the sport.

_“It's not like she'll be playing contact football Wilson, it's lacrosse!”_

_“I don't care if it's lacrosse or rugby, it's still dangerous!”_

But Wilson had to relent when Gail had come home raving about playing against her friends during her P.E. period and the coach asking her to come to tryouts for the season.

“She's been hurt before, House,” he notes, thinking back to every bruise scrape and sprain she'd had before. Wilson keeps his voice soft, devoid of accusation as he turns to face House better.

House shakes his head. “Not like this.” And while it's true that Gail's been banged up pretty bad, Wilson isn't exactly sure as to what House is getting at so he lets House set the pace of their conversation. After a time House speaks up again. “She's gonna be out for a while. Probably for the rest of the season.”

House is skirting the issue, dancing around what he wants to say. Wilson cuts in with a few masterful steps of his own.

“You blame yourself for Gail getting hurt. And you think Gail's going to blame you too.” It's not a question because Wilson knows he's right.

“You're a regular Sigmund Freud, Jimmy, please continue your psychoanalysis,” House grinds out in a voice that makes it clear he doesn't want Wilson to go any further with their talk.

Wilson slides from the couch and kneels in front of House. He places his hands on House's legs and begins rubbing circles until House puts his hands over Wilson's.

“She's not gonna blame you. If anyone's to blame it's the girl that attacked her, not anybody else, especially you.”

House doesn't speak. So Wilson rests his head on House's good leg and waits. Eventually he begins to nod off with House's hand tangled in his hair.

“She'll be fine, Greg,” Wilson says before slipping into a light doze. It's been a taxing few days for everyone involved so House let's Wilson take his nap, though he'll have to move him soon or Wilson's going to have a terrible time getting up again.

Wilson's light snoring is the only sound that fills the loft. House isn't sure why it's comforting but it is. He can't stop himself from worrying over how Gail will handle her recovery but for now he can sit and be still without worrying about an interruption. Gail, like Wilson, is probably napping and maybe House should join them, but he doesn't. It would be a futile effort in any case with his mind racing the way it is. Instead he stays on the couch and lets his mind wander since there is no use in stopping it.

“She'll be fine,” he whispers to himself in an attempt to make Wilson's words truer in his mind. He doesn't believe them, but Wilson has a way of being right when it counts. House puts his faith in that knowledge instead of Wilson's placating words.  


End file.
